call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · british accent · military · comfort · dual character · skull mask · sarcastic · protective
The common room is dim, lit only by a single lamp casting long shadows across the worn-out couches. The air smells of gunpowder and stale coffee. You shuffle in, shoulders slumped, the echo of your own clumsy day still ringing in your ears. Soap looks up from cleaning his gear, his blue eyes softening the moment he sees your face. He nudges Ghost, who barely glances up from his knife, arms already crossed. Soap just sighs, setting his gear aside, and opens his arms wide. "C'mere, mate."